


To catch him in a dress

by Killer_Prince



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Arthur is in denial, Attempt at Humor, FrUK, M/M, Magical Strike AU, lots of flirting, not actual fruk but it is implied the whole time, ukfr - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29090334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killer_Prince/pseuds/Killer_Prince
Summary: When a new man starts working in the office,  Arthur makes it his goal to expose him as the well-known Magical Strike. As a result, he ends up making a fool of himself on multiple occasions, until a golden opportunity gives him the perfect chance to catch him.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Kudos: 7





	To catch him in a dress

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this thinking there should be more Magical Strike fruk. I thought I would end up writting something kinky but then I started thinking more and more about the AU and got this idea. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Suzanne=Seychelles

He wasn’t the new guy anymore, he hasn’t been for a while. It’s been two months since he joined the office and by now all of his colleagues just called him Francis. Not Bonnefoy, they didn’t bother with formalities when it came to Francis, he was such a likeable guy. That was admirable, but Arthur made a point to never call him by his name, or at least avoid it at all costs. To him he was Bonnefoy or (less respectable) Frog, even if every now and then it got him angry looks from his fellow French co-workers. Arthur didn’t like him one bit, he could see through Bonnefoy’s lies and soon he would unmask him. As far as he knew, the frog was a threat, but to his despair everyone else failed to notice it. Arthur’d been watching the news and ever since that lunatic showed up on screen he started following him, though not with that much dedication, he wasn’t obsessed with him or anything. Arthur only did it in a casual way, just because he saw how dangerous the man could actually be.

Whenever there was a riot or a protest, the lunatic was there, upfront. He joined the workers no matter what, as long as they were suffering some kind of ‘injustice’. He was sided with the left, the anarchists, the feminists, the lower class; black workers, poor workers, disabled workers, sex workers, union workers— He was in all the work related issues, always ready for a strike and with a megaphone the size of his head.

And now he was working in the same company as Arthur, about to tear down the system. He just _knew_ Bonnefoy wouldn’t stop until he got the CEO’s head. Some might say it wasn’t Arthur’s business, but it was when his job was at stake.

“I know it’s you.”

They were the only two in the break room. Francis had been stirring his coffee and watching Arthur sip his tea for the longest time. There was an infuriating coquettish smile on his lips.

“Oh, you do?” He said without missing a beat.

“Yes.” With one last gulp Arthur finished his tea. “It’s you. You’re that idiot that goes on strike every week. I got you, Bonnefoy.”

The stirring stopped and Francis blew his coffee, shrugging as if he had no idea what Arthur was talking about. The nerve of that man!

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Arthur.”

“It’s Kirkland to you, frog. And you know bloody well what—”

“Oh! You mean that Magical Strike who’s all over the news?”

“Yes, that one. It 's you!” He pointed a finger at his face. “I knew from the first moment it wasn’t a woman. I know the truth, don’t try to deny it.”

“Let me understand this: You think I go around wearing a pink dress and encouraging people to go on strikes in my free time? And now what, I’m here to bring down our corrupt CEO?”

“Yes! The fact that you call her ‘corrupt’ says everything.” Then he added, “Not that I agree with it.”

“You don’t have to be a magical girl to dislike your boss, Arthur.”

“You aren't magical nor a girl, you’re just bloody insane!”

“Don’t assume my gender!” Francis said with his nose scrunched up. He picked up his bag and unzipped it. “If you’re so convinced that I have the time and will to do all that, then… you’re correct.”

From the inside of the bag was exposed the upper half of the pink dress that Arthur had seen countless times on TV.

“It’s—”

The dress was all the confession he needed. Francis was actually admitting being the so-called Magical Strike. He said it right to his face, on the first time Artur confronted him about the subject, no less.

As soon as the dress came, it was gone.

Francis got on his feet.

“I’m glad we’ve settled this.”

“I’ll expose you!” Arthur declared once he was able to properly speak. “Everyone will know, you won’t get away with this!”

He knew he should’ve taken the bag then and there, it was undeniable proof. But he didn’t. If you asked him, he’d blame it on his temporary lack of good judgment, or maybe he’d say that his legs and arms weren't working properly due to the shock, or that he just needed more solid evidence. Still, he was determined to catch him in the act.

To Arthur, quality has always been more important than quantity, that’s why he felt perfectly fine with Kiku being his one and only friend. It wasn’t unusual for them to meet during Arthur’s lunch break at least once a week. Kiku lived near the office, sometimes he left his apartment to work with his computer in some quiet cafe that suited his calm nature. He was a graphic designer and most of the time could work from wherever he wanted as long as there was a laptop. If his routine made him feel too lonely, he texted Arthur.

“Do you see?” He insisted to Kiku, his phone showed the picture of a man. His co-worker, he said, but it was too blurry to see any details. Arthur swiped the photo to one of Magical Strike on the newspapers. “It’s the same person!”

Kiku looked back and forth between the two a few more times, deciding exactly how to tell his friends that he sounded crazy.

“Well, it could be,” he finally answered. “Both of them are blond and… the hair looks similar.” His tone was unsure, but Arthur was so certain of this and also watching him closely. “They could be the same person— Except that one of them is a woman.”

“That's where everyone is wrong. That Magical-whatever has a beard and chest hair, it’s a man!”

“I thought we talked about gender expression before,” Kiku mentioned.

“No, this has nothing to do with that. It’s a man, _this_ man!”

Once again, Arthur showed him the blurred picture of Francis.

“Don’t you think that it could be that your co-worker just looks like Magical Strike?”

Arthur shook his head with vigor.

“One thing is having a few similarities, this frog is the exact replica. Not only that, he’s awfully suspicious.” He leaned in like he was telling him a secret. “Francis’ been here for two months and now he’s practically best friends with our boss! After this, he’ll go for our boss’s boss and he’ll just keep escalating, until he gets to the head of the company and then he will destroy it like he did with Apple!”

Kiku remembered the Apple days, it felt like it’s been centuries since the last time he saw a MacBook or an iPhone. After months of strike and problems that normal citizens would never fully comprehend, the company was declared bankrupt and nowadays most people used Android.

“But don’t you work for a beer company? It would be a drastic change from a company like Apple.”

“That’s what he wants us to think. The CEO actually owns other things too. Big things.”

“Perhaps you’re investing yourself in this a little too much.”

“If I don’t, this man will destroy the company!”

He didn’t love his job, it wasn’t particularly fulfilling but it was the one he had and he couldn’t afford to lose it. It didn’t matter that his parents told him that he was being exploited like so many other workers, he didn't mind it that much working until late and doing the work of two people. Arthur would notice if he was being bloody exploited.

“I’m considering that maybe there’s another reason for this fixation.” Kiku mused. “What if you subconsciously liked your co-worker and your mind decided to imagine him in Magical Strike’s costume?”

“What? No! I did imagine him— But _not_ because I liked the idea!” Arthur stuttered. “I had to in order to— Ugh! I’m not fantasizing about him, you know I’m not gay.”

“There are other posibilites besides gay and straight.” Kiku pointed out with a serious look.

The fact that his friend wasn’t making fun of him or joking made everything worse, that’s why Arthur decided it was time to go back to the office.

“I know you love to discuss these kinds of things but I ran out of time,” Arthur said, already picking up his belongings and leaving money for his meal.

Maybe the company he worked for wasn’t Apple, so what? Francis was there to make it disappear and Arthur didn’t care why, all that mattered was how to stop him. It’d be much easier if someone actually believed him. He couldn’t tell his boss just yet, not without solid proof. He’d been following and watching Francis closely in an attempt to gather all the information he could (Kiku even suggested that he might be a stalker), but all effort had been in vain.

It took him years to get somewhat close to his boss, he wasn’t like Francis in that aspect, that’s why he couldn’t risk ruining their relationship by accusing him. In the meantime, Arthur tried to convince one of the few co-worker he actually liked: Gilbert.

“You can’t share your documents with him, they’re confidential.” Arthur insisted for the third time, but the other one ignored his complaints. Again.

“It isn’t sensitive information. You just don’t like him, Arthur.”

All he could do was watch in despair as Gilbert emailed to Francis said documents.

“Of course I don’t, but it isn't just that.” Arthur took a look around to make sure no one was listening. “He’s hiding a dress in his bag.”

Those words made him halt immediately.

“He _what_? Hey, Francis!” Gilbert called him over the short walls of his cubicle.

“Don’t call him!”

“Francis! You’re hiding a fucking dress?”

The other one rolled his chair towards them, he gave Arthur a look before addressing Gilbert.

“Why are you asking?” He said, amused.

“This one here says you do.” Gilbert elbowed Arthur, who just sat there stiff. He looked at both of them, then crossed his arms with a grin. “Are you two up to something kinky? My, my...”

While Francis grinned back at him, Arthur huffed as a heavy blush rose from his neck.

“That’s not it, don’t be absurd,” he fumed. “What I was saying is that Francis is that girl— _man_ , who wears a dress and is always on strike!”

Gilbert blinked at him, now more clueless than amused.

“Who?”

“The one that’s all over the news!”

“Just what kind of news are you watching, Arthur?” Francis asked, a smirk on his lips.

“Don’t you start.”

“Yeah, I only watch the important stuff, news about politics and economy. Not the porn news,” Gilbert teased.

“Oh please! You must’ve seen it.”

In a matter of seconds, Arthur had his phone up displaying one of the articles about Magical Strike.

“See? It 's Bonnefoy.”

“Damn, that’s a cute girl right there,” Gilbert nodded. “I don’t mind if she’s an anarchist.”

“It’s this bloody frog!”

At that, some of the other French workers turned to direct him nasty words and mumbled profanities.

“Wow you flatter me, Arthur.” Francis said with a wink after inspecting the article (or pretending to do so). Gilbert let out a cackle.

“Hold on, hold on. You say Francis has this dress?”

“It’s hidden in his bag.” Arthur glanced at the Frenchman for a moment, there was an unreadable look on his face, like it was possible that he still had it— but at the same time, like it was a setup. “He probably took it out already.”

“You can go check,” Francis challenged him.

“Why? Is there a trap, frog?”

“There’s only one way to know.”

Before any of them could do anything, Gilbert rose from his desk and went to get Francis’ bag. Cautiously, under the gaze of the other two, he unzipped it only a little bit, enough to be able to peek inside.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Arthur stood up.

“Fuck— Francis, you wear _this_?”

“Yes,” he admitted with a proud smile.

“I’m losing my mind...” From the bag, Gilbert pulled out a long, purple scarf.

Arthur rolled his eyes and collapsed on his chair once again, as the other two bursted out laughing.

He shouldn’t put it past Gilbert to tease him like that, it was a terrible habit he picked up ever since Francis joined the office. Arthur didn’t like him for no reason, he could be good company and usually made interesting conversation, they could swear around each other and on occasions went for drinks after work. Now, when Francis was around, it was a different story. Together they made lewd comments, he became rowdy and more often than not they teamed up to tease Arthur.

“If you want me on a dress so badly, at least ask me on a date first.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

With a grumble, Arthur went back to his own cubicle, even though he was still able to listen to them.

“I’m sure you have a chance with him!” Gilbert said. “He’s done it all. Speaking of which— Francis, what’s better, dick or pussy?”

The man brought a hand to his chin as if to consider the matter seriously, however, their boss’s secretary walked in on their floor to interrupt them.

“The boss wants to see the three of you.”

They followed the secretary through the halls, the elevator and more halls.

“I can’t believe I’m being promoted so soon,” Francis said cockily.

“In your dreams, frog.”

“Who knows,” Gilbert chimed in. “Maybe she wants us to battle to death for a promotion, I could easily handle both of you.”

“I wouldn’t mind beating _him_ up.”

Francis hurried to the door that read ‘Jacqueline Leblanc’ and smiled smugly at Arthur when he was the first to knock on it.  
“Come on in.”

One by one they walked in on the large office, a cloud of smoke welcomed them as they stood in front of the woman’s desk. Without taking her eyes off the screen of her computer, she blew out some smoke and said:

“You’ll be my guests to the CEO’s party this year.”

After the initial shock the three of them let out exclamations of surprise, Gilbert being the loudest one with his cheering.

“My secretary will send you all the necessary information,” Jacqueline explained, this time actually looking at them. “Wear something stylish.” She gave Arthur a pointed look when saying this. “You’ll probably get to meet her.”

Without anything else to add, their boss dismissed them, though Arthur was stopped.

“Kirkland,” she called him. “Come here for a moment.”

He closed the door in front of the curious eyes of his colleagues and went back to her desk.

“Yes?” As soon as the word left his mouth, the computer’s screen was turned towards him.

“This, Kirkland. Your documents sound too British lately. Painfully so.”

“But— I write everything in French!”

“I’m stunned too, even then you manage to make it sound British. What’s going on? You used to do better.”

“... I honestly don’t know what could be wrong.”

Jacqueline took off her glasses, looking at him in the eye.

“Is this some kind of revenge?”

“What?”

“Just because Francis is gay like me doesn’t mean he’ll be promoted.”

Arthur stayed very quiet for a moment.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“You can’t possibly believe there’s another reason to invite the three of you to that party.”

“But Gilbert and—”

“Don’t worry. If anyone gets a promotion, it’ll be you.” Just as quick, she was back to work and the screen turned towards herself. “Don’t forget to correct the files.”

Arthur was unsure if he should mention that Francis was actually bisexual, or if that wouldn’t change anything and prevent him from meeting the CEO.

Arthur had never been self-conscious about his clothes until he got to Paris. Here he stood out, he noticed the snide remarks made by the people he met, but even then he managed not to let it affect him and Arthur stayed true to himself. This party, however, was a different matter. His boss was pretty straight-forward about the ‘dressing code’. He’d change things up a bit but only because it meant something good would come out of it. Besides, Arthur felt bold tonight: He matched a pinstripe jacket with his dark grey dressing pants, wore the glasses he never used and, for the final touch, he added black leather gloves. The French would love it, he’d learned a lot about them by now.  
When Gilbert arrived at his house he was in a cab instead of his own car.

“What happened?” Arthur hissed as they headed towards the address the secretary gave them. “You know I could’ve driven us there.”

“And risk getting us in a car crash on our way back?” Gilbert chuckled.

“I won’t drink tonight.”

He didn’t even laugh at the statement, Gilbert just nudged him like he wholeheartedly believed that what he said was bullshit.

“Come on, Arthur.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine the amount of beer that will be there? I intend to get no less than shit-faced tonight.”  
Indeed, Arthur could imagine it. Free beer of all kinds, everywhere, cold and ready for him.

But he mustn’t.

“I know you’ll do the same and I’ve seen how you get.”

“Not tonight, I won’t be drinking.” He said sternly, this time Gilbert stared at him.

“You really made up your mind. Of all days, you chose _this_ one.”

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to make a fool of myself like you.”

“You mean that’s what _you_ do. I get shit-faced and have a good laugh, that’s why they want me there. She’s seen us at work, but now she wants to laugh with us.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that.”

“All you have to do is take it easy, choose your drink, have two glasses maybe and then wait until the next one. And fucking eat something.” Gilbert explained to him like he would to a high schooler who’s just beginning to drink. “Your mistake is chugging everything in one go, man.”

“I don’t need you to chaperone me, because I _won’t_ drink.”

“Suit yourself.” He gave Arthur a sarcastic little smirk.

The party was at one of the CEO’s mansion, which wasn’t only massive— it was CEO-massive. The two men checked in before crossing the tall gates and then did it once again at the front doors.

“I should’ve been here last year.”

“To see the shit-show her son made? You love that, but I honestly hope for a peaceful night.”

The last party didn’t go unnoticed, everyone was talking about it at the office the day after. The son (half American, half French) attended the party and caused such a scandal that his mother sent him back to the USA to his equally detestable father.

A man holding a tray with multiple drinks approached them. Gilbert only had to take a look at the champagne before politely rejecting it.

“I’m more of a beer man, I’ll take one if you have.”

“You can ask over at the bar, sir.”

Arthur went along with him and searched for the hostess on their way. He’d only seen a few pictures of her, never in real life. She was unmistakable though and, according to the rumours, so tall that she stood out in any crowd. But the woman was nowhere to be seen, maybe she would join them later?

“What do you mean you have no beer?” Asked an incredulous Gilbert. He turned to Arthur, probably hoping to find him just as outraged.

“Sorry, sir. Maybe you should check in the other room?”

“You should,” Arthur patted his arm. “And let me know if you see the CEO around.”

He split ways with his friend and crossed the crowd, looking around for a familiar face, someone who certainly wasn’t—

“Have you seen Francis?”

Arthur found himself right in front of Jacqueline, her eyes barely registered his outfit. There went his chance of making an impression with his clothes.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he gave her a tightlipped smile. “I can gladly say I haven’t.”

“Let me know if you do, Kirkland. I’d like to introduce him to my wife.”

Apparently the woman didn’t have many gay aquitances, not that Arthur could help her with that, he was straight as an arrow.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh when Jacqueline left. All that preparation for nothing! And he also forgot to ask her about the CEO. It didn’t help that there were so many waiters with glasses and bottles of alcohol, he could really use a drink right now. But no, not if he wanted to stay sharp to catch Bonnefoy. The man was capable of starting a riot in the middle of the party. Or what if he called for a strike and the others joined him? That was his specialty and Arthur wouldn’t have it, even if it meant not drinking when there was alcohol right and left.

A tap on his shoulder startled him.

“Looking for someone?” Francis asked, with an infuriatingly amused look on his face.

“I’m surprised you aren’t wearing a dress tonight.”

“Surprised or disappointed?”

Arthur stepped forward. “Don’t play games with me, I know you’ve planned something.”

“I do like playing,” he said calmly, far from being intimidated. “Just not with you. Believe it or not, this isn’t about Arthur Kirkland.”

Francis’ eyes remained on him as he began walking away.

“People may not see you for who you really are yet, but that will change tonight.” Arthur followed him quickly without caring where they were going. “The moment you try the slightest trick, and I know you will, I’ll expose you.”

There was a halt as both of them stopped their walk. Just when Arthur thought he finally got him, Francis veered to the opposite side to stand behind a man in line for the bar.

“That’s a bold outfit.” His blue eyes scanned him in a way that would make anyone feel self-conscious. But not Arthur. No way. He stuck his chin up and kept his back straight. “So very confident of you to believe you can make a mismatching suit the new trend. Nobody told you a pinstripe jacket doesn’t go with plain trousers?”

“Says the man who dresses like a lollita to cut the streets on a monday.”

That got him a frown, Francis wasn’t expecting a retort. As Arthur relished on his small victory, a woman with long, brown hair placed a hand on Francis’ upper arm.

“You said you’ll wait for me outside the bathroom!”

“I’m so sorry, I walked into an old friend.” Francis explained with an apologetic squeeze on her shoulder. “Suzanne, this is Arthur.”

So he brought a partner. He should have known.

Arthur held out his hand and the girl not only shook it, she also used the grip to pull him in for a kiss and then a second one. Her breath was fresh and her dark cheeks had a faint blush, she was too adorable for Francis.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Arthur.”

She peeped behind him before saying. “Hey, would you mind fetching me a drink?”

“Well, look at that. If Bonnefoy can’t even wait for you, of course you won’t rely on him for a drink.”

Suzanne chuckled, giving Francis a look as Arthur left for the bar. He must really like her, seeing as he didn’t make a comeback. When Arthur returned with the single glass of champagne they were gone and nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell?”

Was that because of the silly joke? If so, then the frog was more sensitive than he thought.

He couldn’t just leave the glass, it would’ve been rude. Besides— It was only one, it wouldn’t hurt him. Arthur sipped it slowly, almost distractedly as he made small talk with the people there. Boring conversation, nothing he couldn’t handle. Boring comments about the party, the food and the company. Boring gossips of people and things he didn’t know. At some point the others must’ve thought Arthur himself was boring, since it started to feel like they were avoiding him.

“This is unbelievable, I won’t have it!” Gilbert downed a glass of something, probably bourbon, judging by the smell (any gentleman would know). “How is it possible that they have no beer? At all!”

“I know, it breaks my heart too.”

“There’s tons of champagne, red wine too; they have whiskey, brandy, rum, gin— All kinds of cocktails and fruity drinks with vodka. Shots, entire bottles too, if you ask for them.”

They did have all that and Arthur knew it, he’d seen the bartenders all the bloody night in every single room he went.

“You can ask for a Manhattan, a Martini or margaritas, and they make them for you. They have vermouth, cider, tequila, _but_ there’s not a single drop of beer in sight.”

Jesus Christ. A man could only take so much.

“Alright, alright, let’s go look for it.” Arthur said. “It must be locked up or something—”

“Yeah, you think?”

“We can try to find it.”

“I'll find it even if it’s the last thing I do.”

They split ways once again, Arthur entered the next room to ‘look for the beer’ and the first thing he noticed was Suzanne’s golden dress.

She was alone.

“Hey, uh— Have you seen your boyfriend? There’s something I need to—”

“Oh, no, he's not my boyfriend!” She corrected him. “Francis is my cousin.”

 _Oh_. Something like a knot left his stomach in a second. No reason behind it, though.

“Oh well, my bad.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Anyway, have you seen him around?”

“Yes, he is… over there.” Suzanne pointed to a hallway. Even though she seemed hesitant, Arthur followed her directions. It wasn’t too much of a surprise to find out Francis wasn’t there.

That little liar. She must be part of the whole charade. There was a bar, interestingly enough.

“Fuck it.”

He asked for a glass of whiskey, then a second one and the pit of his stomach was already starting to feel warm, in a matter of minutes it extended to his whole body. It would do for the night. Just in case, he got a third gass— this time rum.

If he wanted to find Francis he couldn’t let Suzanne know. She was already up to something, otherwise she wouldn’t be on the lookout. Arthur had been searching everywhere, except upstairs, where nobody was allowed. All of a sudden he felt like an idiot, luckily alcohol always helped him think.

He would need backup for this.

“Oi, Gilbert!” He waved at the man, who turned around so fast he spilled his drink. Apparently he had a few of them too. “We’re wrong— We’ve been wrong this whole time. You know where we should be looking?” Arthur signaled up with his finger.

“Let’s fucking go then.”

It wasn’t difficult at all since nobody was really looking or paying attention to them. They sneaked up and stumbled around the long and dark corridors.

“Shh! We really must be quiet.” Gilbert turned on his phone’s flashlight and tried on the first door.

It was locked.

“Fuck!”

“So much for being quiet,” Arthur scoffed. “Give me.” He snatched the phone and pointed at the end of the corridor. There were at least seven doors, Arthur wasn’t so sure as his ability to count wasn’t the best right now. “Okay, let’s try the others.”

The one right next to the first door was open, inside they only found three tall libraries covering the walls and a few couches at the centre. The third door was also unlocked, there was a piano and even more libraries, the whole scenario seemed boring and even a little fake, as if she had someone else decorate the rooms. The fourth was in a much poorer state than the previous ones, the only things there were boxes covered in dusty blankets.

“Hold on...” Gilbert tossed a blanket away and tried to open the box with his bare hands, the wood only gave in a little but it was enough to let him look inside with the flashlight and notice the bottles of beer. “I fucking knew it!”

Arthur didn’t have time for this, he watched as Gilbert kept trying to open it completely.

“I don’t think that’s working—”

“Go get me something to open it!”

“... Sure.”

He took the opportunity to walk away. Arthur had a feeling about the last room, he wasn’t always right when it came to things like this, but this time he decided to follow his gut. As he carefully cracked the door open and slid in, he saw the dim light of a lamp coming from a bedside table, it was too faint to be seen from the outside. Someone was in there.

The door was suddenly shut.

“You just can’t mind your own business, can you?”

Arthur whipped around and there he was, the awful frog in that equally awful dress. Where the hell did he even keep it all this time? The thing was huge, not to mention the tall boots would’ve been impossible to hide.

“This _is_ my business.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Francis (or Magical Strike) shook his head as the condescending prick he was. “Now go back with Gilbert, I have something to solve.”

“Ha! You wish. This is her bedroom, isn’t it?” Arthur motioned at the room, it only had a king size bed and a wardrobe; no pictures, no desk, not even a tv or anything distinctive to show signs of true personality, just like the previous rooms. It might as well have been a guest room. “Were you planning to attack her here?”

“Unless you want to be my sidekick, I seriously advice you to—”

His words were cut off as Arthur pounced him, both of his arms were wrapped around Francis in a lock and the man was shoved against the door.

“Really?!” Francis huffed in annoyance. He didn’t even squirm or try to get him off.

“You thought I’d let you go that easily?” He said with a cocky smile, soon it was gone though, as Francis twisted his neck to look at him. Very closely.

“Now what? You’ll keep me in an embrace until you deem it safe to let me go?”

“Well, if I have to, yes!”

“What if Gil found us in such a compromising position?”

“No, no, no. You won’t get into my head!”

Francis batted his eyelashes at him, a slow smile formed on his lips as he leaned in. His nose touched Arthur’s in a playful way, but the Britishman didn’t dare to move a muscle, he could barely hold his breath.

“As much as I’d like to stay like this...”

In a second, Francis freed himself from the grip and pressed Arthur’s face to the adjacent wall. He only noticed his hands were cuffed when he attempted to move.

“You fucker!”

It must have been the alcohol combined with the sudden movements that made the room spin, if it weren’t for Francis holding him up, he would’ve lost his balance by now. Just as easily, he was pushed onto the bed.

“Try to stay there, will you? The adults need to speak.”

“Sodding wanker—”

No matter how much he tossed around, it was useless and only made the spinning worse. One thing was sure, he could clearly see Francis retrieving a pointy (and pink) wooden stake from the skirt of his dress. Was he going to stab him?

“Put that bloody thing down!”

But Francis didn’t listen to him, instead he pushed the wardrobe with the whole weight of his body and it turned all the way around. Just like that, he was gone.

“No, no, _shit_!”

He was supposed to be the one who stopped him!

“Gilbert!” Arthur called him over and over but the man never came, he must’ve been drunk off his ass by now.

He slowly pushed up his body, focusing his gaze in only one point so he wouldn’t lose his balance. It wasn’t the same as being sober but it would have to do for now. Still, he was so drunk it was impossible to figure out how to solve the handcuff problem, at least Francis was kind enough to use a furry pair. He wondered if they were pink as well.  
Crossing the secret passage wasn’t difficult, all Arthur had to do was imitate Francis’ actions and, with a smooth slide, he was sent into a whole new room. It was more dark than the bedroom yet it gave the impression of being much larger. Only two single torches hanging from the walls provided light. With each step he realized that the most unsettling thing about this place wasn’t any of that, not when there was money all over the floor. The Euros covered it like some kind of disorganized carpet. Arthur stepped forward watching as his feet pushed the money aside, in his drunken state he tripped over a tiny pile and fell with a loud thud.

In that moment, an animalistic growl echoed from afar and, like a thunder, it was followed by a sharp howl. Francis emerged from the depths of the room, he was running in his direction, judging by the panicked look on his face the sound he just heard wasn’t one of his ‘superpowers’. Instead of running away like Arthur thought he’d do, Francis uncuffed his hands and helped him get up.

“I _told_ you to stay back, you stubborn, insistent little—”

Another growl resonated and then he finally saw her, the tall figure of the CEO with white hair to her knees and glowing eyes. She stopped short before reaching them, her chest puffed out as she took a deep breath.

“She’s smelling the money you’re worth to her,” Francis shouted boldly.

“Extra hours,” said the CEO in a low voice. “No lunch breaks, no vacations, never a raise or a complaint… I know you’d do it, I can sense it.”

“You’d suck the money out of all your employees, the same way you’ve been doing all these years!”

The CEO roared once again, she got on her hands and knees like an animal and ran right towards Francis. The man was quick to push Arthur backwards so he would be the only one to get caught. He was knocked down, the CEO trapped him with her claws, her hair made it hard to see what was going on, but Arthur was sure that she had bared her teeth at Francis. He wrestled with her in an attempt to get the upper hand, until the stake he'd been carrying flew to the other side and away from him.

“Arthur!” He called, holding her by the neck in order to keep the teeth as far as possible.

Technically this was his boss, yes, but she was also a beast, a supernatural creature that wouldn't hesitate to use him and suck his money. And he may have sworn to himself to capture Francis before, but his life was in danger and Arthur was a gentleman above anything else. Right now wasn’t the time for animosities. He tossed the stake at Francis, ran behind the beast and pulled her head back by her hair.

“In the name of freedom, love and revolution!” He yelled at the CEO. She desperately tried to reach for Francis with her claws, however, he was faster and buried the stake on her chest. With a final, agonizing squeal her body became dead weight before turning into goo.

Francis collapsed on the floor and wiped the stuff off his face with a gloved hand.

“This is the worst part of my job,” he groaned after a moment. The rest of his body, as well as the money surrounding him on the floor, were covered in goo, there was no sign of the CEO left.

“What the hell was that?”

“A money vampire. They suck the money out of their workers.” Francis stood up, cleaning off his dress the best he could.

“Is she… dead now?”

“That’s a strong word, I would say she’s gone. Forever.” The perplexed look on Arthur’s face told him he’d need time to process the events. “You should get back to the party, I'll handle this.”

“So, this was your plan all along.”

“Yes, yes, it was.” He rolled his eyes. “You got me. See it wasn’t such a terrible thing after all?”

“You killed the CEO. However… the company is still on its feet, it’ll survive. Someone will replace her.”

“Yes, that’s a problem for another day,” he mumbled to himself.

Perhaps it was the alcohol still left in him, but Arthur felt the need to ask:

“This is it then, you’ll quit— I mean, you won’t be around anymore?”

Francis gave him a tender smile.

“Even if my current position at the company isn’t useful anymore... Let’s say the workers wouldn't be safe without having me around.”

It’d been a week since the party and since Francis quit his job. According to Jacqueline, he said the company ‘wasn’t gay enough’ for him. It destroyed her. There was no promotion for Arthur yet, in fact, nobody knew exactly what would happen from now on since the CEO’s sudden disappearance. The police of Paris were still looking for her. For the time being, her son Alfred was named provisional director of the company.

The offices of the top floor were gathered in the central room, where a large screen displayed the image of the young man in a live call to speak to his employees. He was way, way too young for the position he was taking. His lack of experience was written all over his extravagant black outfit and the colorful streaks on his hair. For God’s sake, he even had a tattoo (or was it makeup?) right on his face.

Arthur’s phone buzzed with a new message.

_Now you see why I can’t stay away for long. See you soon, Kirkland <3_

**Author's Note:**

> As some of you know, English isn't my first language, so let me know if there's anything to correct or something that sounds better phrased diffrently.
> 
> I know it's implied at the end, but there won't be a continuation. Thanks for reading!


End file.
